Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.
Back and forth goes the clock.
Eyes searching for a face.
Memorized numbers in their place.
Round and round goes the hands.
No beginning no end.
Once was calculated by just mere sand.
Passing through an hour glass.
Times so precious not to be lost.
Passing through ones life,
like a breeze flowing through air.
Can't grasp it, hold onto it, it's not there.
By the time I say it is one thirty-five.
It is gone, on it's way towards another day.